


we live in cities (you'll never see on screen)

by skitzofreak



Series: stardust in your spine [3]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Bodhi is a great at sabacc and bluffing in general, Cassian is a sniper and spy, F/M, Jyn kicks ass, Rated for cursing, but with some feels too, i just wanted them to be badass, mild canon typical violence, the Rogue trio on a mission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 07:10:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11572989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skitzofreak/pseuds/skitzofreak
Summary: It's pretty quiet for a casino, though, and she has to shake the cliché urge to think "too quiet." Maybe Jyn’s just extra paranoid tonight. Then again, the two most important people in the galaxy – as far as Jyn’s concerned – are in this bar right now. Kriff it. A little paranoia is in order, she decides.Cassian, Jyn, and Bodhi are on a simple pick up mission. It's going well, until it isn't.





	we live in cities (you'll never see on screen)

**Author's Note:**

> The title for this on my computer is "A spy, a thief, and a pilot walk into a bar," because I'm terrible.

_We live in cities you'll never see onscreen,_  
_Not very pretty, but we sure know how to run things._  
_Livin' in ruins of a palace within my dreams,_  
_And you know we're on each other's team._

_-_

“She’s late,” Jyn mutters, and fakes another swallow of her beer. To anyone paying attention, Jyn appears to be well into her fifth drink, and from the way she is very obviously swaying in her stool, she’s thoroughly drunk. The drunk act makes her look harmless (lie), the scowl on her face makes her look unfriendly (true), and the way she keeps reaching up to tug at the hair over her left ear makes her look restless (absolutely true, but not why she keeps doing it – the damn earpiece feels loose, and she hasn’t figured out how to reset it without being obvious).

“A little longer,” Cassian’s voice is mild in her ear, and it settles her a little.  She risks a quick glance to the side, to where he is sitting casually at a small table, his own drink barely touched, clearly waiting.

“Didn’t this one keep you waiting last time, too?” Bodhi’s voice is a bit louder than Cassian’s, and Jyn can practically hear the fake smile he’s got plastered on his face. But then, Bodhi’s sitting on the upper level of this low-end casino in the shady part of town, on the open balcony that overlooks the main bar. The sabacc tables and dancers’ poles are packed in tighter up there, and the noise level is accordingly higher. He’s just cleaned up a nice sum of credits in a sabacc game and is about to start another with some new patrons, but for the moment he’s sitting alone and Jyn can get an unhindered view of his table, right at the edge of the balcony and with a clear line of sight to Cassian.

“She sometimes takes the long way around,” Cassian replies, lifting his glass to his mouth to cover the movement of his lips. It doesn’t really work for Jyn, since she’s sitting at such a sideways angle, so she can see his lower lip brushing the edge of the glass as he speaks – and she blinks and looks away, because she’s _not_ staring at Cassian’s mouth. That would be ridiculous. “She worries someone will tail her.”

“Well, more playtime for me, I guess,” Bodhi says with poorly disguised satisfaction, and then he’s laughing and welcoming some new players to the table, and Jyn hopes he doesn’t get carried away. It’s rare that Bodhi really gets to feel like he’s good at something, aside from flying, and she wants him to enjoy it, but worries he’ll get in trouble.

“Don’t forget to lose a little,” Cassian murmurs, and Jyn smirks a bit to hear her concerns in his voice.

“Of course, of course,” Bodhi laughs, managing to sound like he’s answering his new victims’ request for drinks rather than his teammate’s caution.

“Temolaks,” Jyn says abruptly, as five tall, red-skinned humanoids come barging in the casino door, looking far too grim and tense for a group of buddies planning to hang out at a bar. These Temolaks are in the salvage business, and most of their gear looks repurposed, or at least second hand. She notes that at least two of them have poorly concealed blasters tucked into their layered, grimy clothes. Another obviously has a vibroblade in his jacket. The other two aren’t overtly carrying weapons, but there are plenty of random chunks of metal and reinforced leather on their outfits that would work as impromptu blunt force weapons. Jyn feels the muscles in her back tense, but the Temolaks move straight for a table and then sit down without looking around.  She doesn’t like that they are now squarely in between her and Cassian, but they don’t seem interested in starting anything, so she shrugs irritably and lets it go.

“Another game, Bodhi,” Cassian says after the Temolaks settle, “then we’ll call it.”

Upstairs, Bodhi makes loud, dramatic noises of distress as the Bothan across from him rakes in the pot from the latest round, but Jyn can tell from his tone that it’s entirely faked. _Well, someone is having a good time, anyway._ Jyn dumps a little more of her beer into the plant behind her, and stretches so she can get a good sweep around the room.

“Incoming,” she says sharply, catching sight of the sharp, pronounced eye-ridges of the Imzig female they’ve all been waiting for.

The Imzig makes straight for Cassian’s table, and over his earpiece Jyn can just catch her high-pitched, fluting voice. “Hello, Vict,” she trills. “So sorry for the delay. The streets are truly bustling tonight.”

“No problem, Tak,” Cassian answers in his friendliest tone. Jyn grimaces a little; he sounds so different like this, like a stranger, not the partner Jyn relies on, not the man who told her _welcome home_. “How’s your boss been treating you? Still riding your back?”

Tak grimaces, an exaggerated expression, and throws her short, sharp fingers out in a sign of great distress. “Oh yes, he’s a terrible son of a mynock, still harassing me to finish my project when I clearly cannot make such ridiculous deadlines – “ she chatters on for a moment, and Jyn stops trying to parse the twittering through Cassian’s earpiece and goes back to scanning the bar. Something is nagging at the nape of her neck, the prickle of danger poking at her senses. Of course, this is an Imperial controlled world, and they are in a non-human dominated club. That’s always a recipe for trouble, especially if the local governor decides to do a “census” or a “security sweep” or some other thinly veiled excuse to flex Imperial muscle on the people who would have the least amount of support if they flexed back.

It's pretty quiet for a casino, though, and she has to shake the cliché urge to think _too quiet_. Maybe Jyn’s just extra paranoid tonight. Then again, the two most important people in the galaxy – as far as Jyn’s concerned – are in this bar right now. Kriff it. A little paranoia is in order, she decides.

“That isn’t on the table, Tak,” Cassian’s voice has taken on an edge that cuts through Jyn’s analysis of a nearby Ithorian, and she focuses sharply back on him, running the last few sentences she heard through the comms back through her memory. Ah, the Imzig has apparently just asked for more credits, much more than she was promised. Jyn wants to snort; why does everyone seem to think the Rebellion can afford to pay outrageous sums for even the most piddling information? Most days they can barely afford to fuel up the fighters. Her team gets by almost entirely on what credits they can scavenge themselves, which is part of the reason Bodhi is so pleased that his part tonight involves a shot at the sabacc tables. She’s pleased too, honestly; he’ll probably walk away with enough to buy a few more days’ worth of supplies for the three of them.

“Oh come, Vict,” the Imzig purrs, “My luck’s been terrible lately, and my boss is threatening to cut all overtime, on top of everything. I need the creds.”

“You need a lot of creds,” Cassian corrects, the friendly tone starting to wear down.

“Times are hard, you know.”

“Times are hard for everyone,” Cassian says flatly, with no room for compromise. Normally, he would be a lot more flattering, and a lot more willing to haggle, but the Alliance had lost two supply lines in the Corva sector not a month ago, and they just do not have the resources to stretch even a little.

“This hand’s my win, I think,” Bodhi says brightly in the earpiece. “A solid five hundred for me. Perhaps I should cash out?” As she listens to the good natured groans of his sabacc rivals, Jyn smiles a little into her beer. Bodhi’s offering to bring down his winnings to Cassian, even though that will connect him to a known Rebel contact in front of the Imzig, and run the risk that she will recognize him, or even target him.

Unsurprisingly, Cassian sets his glass down a little too hard and says firmly, “Not happening.”

Jyn’s smile gets just a little wider before she shoves it back down.  Cassian has faith in them both, she knows, but he’s unrepentantly touchy about putting either of them at risk.

“Surely our relationship has earned me more than such rudeness,” Tak pouts, then smiles brightly again. “Surely we mean more to each other than blunt refusal. Come, Vict, you know I’m always good to you.” The smile turns a sultry, although personally Jyn thinks she sounds a little too desperate to pull it off. Jyn hasn’t been working with Cassian more than a few months, and she’s never been backup for an exchange with this particular contact, but she knows that Cassian doesn’t care for the honeypot trick. None of his regular contacts require him to pretend at a relationship beyond ‘working buddies’ or ‘friend from the cantina,’ and only a few of them require even that charade. So the Imzig’s sudden attempt to play the lover is a bit jarring. She must really need the credits, Jyn thinks impassively.

Cassian seems to have reached the same conclusion, because he leans back in his chair and says mildly, “Not that good, Tak.”

A pause, then Tak’s smile seems to shift into something significantly less friendly. “I was really hoping you’d be a better friend, Vict,” she says, and her voice is still high but no nearly as musical. “But as I said, my luck is no good lately at all.”

Jyn’s neck is prickling again.

Across the bar, Cassian has gone very still. Jyn can guess what he’s thinking right now; they need this intel, but the likelihood that Tak will give it to them is shrinking by the second, and he’s probably calculating how hard he can push it before he puts the whole operation – the whole team – at risk. “I would like to be your friend, Tak, but I have my limits.”

And then the Imzig makes a sharp motion with her left hand, and all five of the Temolaks turn and glare across at Cassian. He sees them, Jyn can tell by the way his shoulders tense slightly, though he doesn’t turn his head. “How much did it cost you to hire on a whole team?” He sounds stiff and cold, and she sees the hand he has until now kept under the table sliding slowly toward his belt. Unfortunately, the Imzig sees it too.

“Hands where I can see, please, Vict,” she trills sharply. “I would rather keep this civilized, if possible.”

The Temolaks shift, one of them even blatantly settling a scaled hand on the distinct lump of a blaster under his coat. Slowly, Cassian draws both hands out and places them on the table top. “Civilized, is it?” His voice is light in a way that tells Jyn he is fighting back his anger. “A brawl with scavengers in a casino? You and I have a very different idea of civilized, I think.”

“ _They_ are just backup,” Tak responds almost primly. “You forget, I know you, Vict. You’re a slippery bastard, you could probably get away from _them_.” She leans forward, and Jyn grinds her teeth as the Imzig’s high-pitched voice chirps directly into her ear. “But if you try, my sniper will blow your hairy little human head all over this nice bar, and that would be such a shame.”

 _Damn it._ Jyn pretends to slam back a long draught of her beer, tilting her head and scanning along the balcony, but there’s so much of the upper level she can’t see from here –

“Wait, your pardon, but I think I see an old friend,” Bodhi’s voice is suddenly loud in her ear. “Just a moment, no, no, please, deal me out, I’m afraid I simply must speak to him.”

Jyn sees Bodhi stand, and then he steps toward a small table situated on the balcony’s edge, flings his arms out wide, and says in a loud, cheerful voice, “Soloman! My old friend Sol!” Bodhi’s accent is suddenly almost comically thick, a caricature of his normal Jedhan cadence.  “It’s me, your good friend Raza! Stars, but it’s been so long!” Jyn sees the slight, blond haired man that Bodhi is shouting at jump in surprise. The man turns, and Jyn catches the muted flash of a blaster barrel vanishing under the stranger’s loose robe as Bodhi strolls up and claps him heartily on the back. “How’s the wife? Mariza! Your lovely wife!” he tries to throw a chummy arm around the sniper, which the man only dodges by pushing away from the balcony rail.  Bodhi stumbles a little off balance, and lets it carry him to the railing, where he turns and places himself between the sniper and Cassian. “I still dream of those delicious nankhatai she makes, you know,” he continues in that obnoxious, loud voice. “You must tell her so!”

“I’m not Sol,” the sniper says in a brittle tone, but Bodhi does an admirable impression of a man too jovially drunk to hear and begins calling loudly for the barmaid to bring his buddy Sol a nice big beer. Jyn glances across at the Imzig, who has noticed that her sniper is no longer paying attention, and grins a little at the slight frown marring the woman’s face.

“Something wrong, Tak?” Cassian asks, and probably only Jyn can hear the tiniest hint of humor in his chilly tone. 

“A lovely woman, your Mariza,” Bodhi all but shouts into their earpieces, laughing. “Lovely, and so fiery! I shall never forget, never forget of course that time in, what, last winter, ah, the fight about that pretty red head, oh dear – “ he smacks a hand to his forehead in dismay, completely ignoring the sniper’s repeated attempts to interrupt. “You’re not _still_ seeing that girl, are you, Sol? Oh, my friend, no no, that will not do, you will cause another unpleasant scene, and Mariza deserves so much better, oh dear, you must listen to me, listen, my friend, I am speaking only the greatest truth.” Bodhi’s loud fussing is drawing attention now, and the sniper is visibly discomfited by the stares. He’s a hire, Jyn decides. Not a friend. Not a teammate. He’ll leave the Imzig behind without a glance.

“You’re mistaken,” he snaps again, but he’s already standing, shoving past Bodhi and making for the exit. Snipers hate attention, Jyn’s learned.

“Ah, Sol, friend, buddy, don’t be like that, come back and share a drink with me! Sol? Sol!” Bodhi waves his arms a little, and then sighs loudly, grinning around at the crowd. “That Sol,” he chuckles. “A fine man, a fine man, bit of a fool about love, though. Ah well, are we not all?”

On the floor, the Imzig is definitely scowling, but before she can think to call in her backup, Jyn’s up from the bar and moving. Her turn.

She stalks over to the table full of Temolaks, and stops in between them and Cassian. She takes a long, theatrical pull from her beer (if Bodhi gets to be obnoxious and dramatic, so does she) and then makes a face, banging the bottle down on the Temolak’s table. “This beer tastes like rat piss,” she announces with a gleeful slur. She pretends to spot one of the Temolak’s bright blue drinks and before any of them can react, she snags it neatly. “Hey, trade me yours.”

She throws the noxious drink down her throat like a pro (it’s probably not poisonous to human physiology) and grins when the Temolak makes a growl of protest and jumps to his feet. He’s huge, towering over her by a solid fifteen centimeters, and out of the corner of her eye she sees Cassian’s shoulders go rigid.

Jyn grins with all her teeth. “Well, now, aren’t you a big lad.” Like Bodhi, she lets her accent turn thicker and heavier, blurring into a low-class version of her normal Core-world inflection. She tilts her head back to get a good view of her new challenge and deliberately relaxes her stance. “Shite, son! Did someone kark your face up, then,” Jyn lifts the half-empty glass in a lazy salute, “or did your mum just fuck a Hutt?”

There’s a slight pause as the incredulous Temolaks process what she’s just said, and then with a bellow, the one standing lurches towards her. But Jyn’s already moving, dropping low and hammering her free hand into the side of his knee, where the patchwork scavenger’s armor is weak. He topples sideways with a howl, and Jyn shoves him into his nearest mate, who crashes down under the weight and smacks his head on the floor. She sidesteps the fist of the third Temolak, and drives her elbow back once, twice, right into the soft fleshy part of his secondary sternum, and when he drops with a gasp to his knees, she drives her elbow a third time into his throat. The fourth Temolak comes for her neck, webbed hands grasping, but Jyn lunges in towards him, plants her own fist in his nose, and slams her hip hard against his side just for good measure, sending him flying into a nearby table. The last Temolak actually does get his scaly arms around her shoulders from behind, but Jyn leans back, uses his own size as leverage, and heaves her legs up, planting them on the still gasping Temolak she hit in the throat. She jackknifes her body, kicking the gasping Temolak to the floor and forcing the fifth Temolak backwards.  He staggers to get his balance, but his arms have loosened enough that Jyn can twist free. She doesn’t, though, just leans forward slightly in his loose grip and then slams her head back, catching him right in the cranial ridge with an audible crunch. He howls, drops her completely, and turns away, clutching at his face.

Her breath rushes out, sound filters back into her consciousness, and time seems to regain normal speed. Jyn stands next to the now empty table, four groaning and gasping Temolaks on the floor at her feet and the fifth practically bolting for the exit, and she raises the half-full glass of blue what-the-fuck-ever that she’s still holding to gulp down the rest of it. She smacks the empty glass down on the table, throws her arms out in challenge to the bar at large and barks, “ _Well_?”

There’s a brief roar of laughter and a slight smattering of applause, and Jyn waits a beat until it’s clear that no one is planning on accepting her challenge. With only partially-feigned disappointment, she rolls her shoulders into a shrug and grabs her beer off the table again. “Well, it’s still piss, but it’s better than nothing,” she tells her audience, and then turns and lets herself fake-stagger away. The whole thing’s taken about two minutes, give or take.

She very carefully does not look at Cassian as she makes her way back to the bar, because she’s not entirely sure she could keep her face neutral right now, not with the adrenaline still pumping through her system. She’s not sure she could keep from smiling at him, and she’s not sure what she would do if he didn’t smile back.

In her earpiece, there is silence. Then, quietly, Cassian says, “Shall we begin again, Tak?”

“What the _kriff,_ ” the Imzig bites out, stutters, then falls into what sounds like a fuming silence.

“I believe you now,” Cassian tells her. “Your luck has clearly been terrible of late.”

On the balcony, Bodhi has already cashed out his sabacc winnings and is pretending to stumble cheerily out the door. Jyn should make her way out, too, after drawing all that attention, but of course she can’t. The Imzig just pulled a desperate move on Cassian, both a sniper and a thug squad, and even a vague attempt at seduction. Something’s still off, and she’s not about to leave him to handle it alone. Still, no good trying to stay anonymous at her barstool anymore. A couple other patrons have already tried to buy her a drink, and the man a few stools down is eyeing her like she’s a particularly juicy steak. Jyn shoves her beer back towards the bartender and saunters casually towards an exit behind Cassian. She figures she’ll linger just out of sight, waiting for him to tell the Imzig to kriff off then make his own escape. They won’t get the intel, but they’ll get out alive and without either Bodhi or Jyn being connected to the Rebellion. That’ll have to do.

In her ear, she hears Cassian say, “Let’s take a walk, Tak.”

Wait, what?

“I’m not going anywhere with you, Vict,” the Imzig snarls. “I’m no fool.”

“Aren’t you?” Cassian’s voice has dropped to a dangerous low, and despite herself Jyn shivers.

A long silence. Jyn makes it to the door, slips just outside, and leans back against the door, arms crossed and her fiercest scowl in place. There are rustling noises in her earpiece, and she wants to turn right back around and march back inside. But this is still Cassian’s show, and he knows what he’s doing. Besides, she doesn’t know which direction he’s headed, and she can’t try to follow until she knows that much at least.

“I’m almost back to the ship,” Bodhi says into the silence on the comm. “But I can turn back.”

“I’ve got it,” Jyn replies, because Cassian probably can’t. “You prep the ship, we’ll probably need a quick exit.”

“This way,” Cassian says, as the sounds of the casino fade out of his earpiece and the sounds of the street at night fill it instead. “Down towards the factory district.”

“A lovely choice for a stroll,” the Imzig trills sarcastically.

“On my way,” Jyn says shortly, pushing off the wall and headed south.

“Look, Vict,” the Imzig’s voice is the quietest it’s been all night, “I wasn’t lying. It’s been rough around here. Some of your…some rebels blew the fuel depot in the north last month, and the governor’s cracked down. I’ve got to eat.” She sounds almost weary, and Jyn has to strain to hear her through Cassian’s earpiece.

“You’ve been good business for a long while, Tak,” Cassian replies just as quiet. “I might have even helped you, if you’d asked. We are not enemies.”

“And yet,” Tak says dryly.

“And yet,” Cassian agrees.

Jyn rounds the corner, just in time to see Cassian’s dark head turning around another, the shorter but more distinct Imzig at his side. Jyn’s neck is still prickling. Something is still off.

“If times are so hard,” Cassian’s voice is suddenly low and unforgiving in Jyn’s ear – he knows, she realizes abruptly. He knows something’s wrong. “How could you afford to hire the sniper, Tak?”

The sniper - _shit_. Jyn’s forgotten about the sniper. Cassian and the Imzig are still out of her view, further down the street, and Jyn breaks into a jog, scanning the upper levels of the buildings around her as she weaves through the thin late-night crowd. Her earpiece wiggles in her left ear again, still too loose, and she has to slow a little so she can adjust it before it falls out. The distraction almost causes her to miss the next thing the Imzig says.

“I didn’t hire him,” Tak sounds oddly flat-toned, all the trill gone from her voice.

“No,” Cassian says heavily, and Jyn’s heart drops into her gut. “I didn’t think you did.”

Bodhi catches on the same time she does. “Cassian!” His shout echoes in her ear, and Jyn stops fiddling with the kriffing earpiece and _runs._

He’s gotten farther ahead than she thought, damn it, she shouldn’t have stopped to mess with the comm, and it takes her an eternity just to reach the corner where she saw him last –

She hears the sharp crack of a sniper rifle, a grunt, a _thud_ , and Jyn rounds the corner just in time to see Cassian dropping to his knees.

_No!_

He’s holding the Imzig tight against his chest with one hand as his other arm extends up and to the left. He fires once, twice, with the blaster he had been carrying tucked in his belt. Something heavy – a body, human, male, blond hair made dull in the alley’s shadows - tumbles from the roof to the street below. It takes Jyn’s brain a full three seconds to comprehend what’s happened, that Cassian had anticipated the shot and dragged the Imzig into the line of fire instead. The second body is the sniper, the one she _forgot_ , the one who just tried to _kill_ him.

Cassian drops the Imzig’s limp body and takes a deep breath, lowering his blaster. His face is eerily calm in the shadows, his body language detached, almost casual, as he looks across the alley at the unmoving shape of the man’s he’s just shot.

Jyn’s breath strangles in her throat, and the small sound catches Cassian’s attention.

He looks up, and something in Jyn’s expression breaks his own composure, because he shoves himself to his feet and strides across to her, cramming his blaster carelessly back into his belt and reaching for her.  She lunges forward and latches on to his arms, looking him over, checking for blood, willing her heart to slow down and her lungs to work properly again.

The comm sounds tinny and far away, sitting precariously in her ear. “Cassian? Jyn? What happened? Was that blaster fire? Are you - Someone answer me right now, I swear by all the – _Cassian_!”

“It’s okay,” Cassian says softly, eyes fixed on Jyn’s face. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”

“Jyn?” Bodhi demands in the same sharp tone.

Jyn blinks and realizes that she’s slid her hands up to Cassian’s chest, one palm pressed over his heart as if to check it’s still beating. She almost jerks away instinctively, but Cassian’s fingers are tight around her shoulders and he’s staring at her with an expression she can’t quite name, isn’t sure she wants to, just yet. She stays still, keeps her hand over his heart, and murmurs, “I’m here, Bodhi.”

Bodhi exhales loudly enough for the earpiece to pick it up, and then says, “What _happened_?”

“The sniper,” Cassian begins, but Bodhi cuts him off with a string of curses.

“I knew I should have followed him! _Kriff_ , I’m an idiot, I’m so sorry –“

“Bodhi,” Jyn cuts him off. “Stop.”

“The sniper was likely an Imperial agent,” Cassian tells him, voice suddenly crisp and professional and completely at odds with the gentle way his hands are still wrapped around Jyn’s shoulders, his eyes still intent on her face. “He must have found out about Tak’s connection to the Alliance, and used her to find us. Me,” he corrects. “She probably figured this was her last chance to make any profit off me before the Imperial took me out.”

“And here I just thought he was some blaster for hire,” Bodhi joked weakly. “Some super spy I’m turning out to be.”

“You did well,” Cassian says firmly, and he’s talking to Bodhi but he’s still looking at Jyn.

She takes a deep breath, tries to force her scattered thoughts into some sort of order. “We’re fifteen minutes from the port,” she manages at last.

“Okay, we’ll be fired up and cleared for departure by then,” Bodhi answers in a much calmer tone. “Come back safely,” he orders, and then the comm goes quiet. Slowly, Cassian reaches up and tugs his earpiece free, and then, hesitantly, taps Jyn’s jaw just below her ear. She reaches up and pulls the stupid thing entirely free at last, and resists the urge to crush it in her grip.

“Jyn,” Cassian says, and she bites her lip a little at his tone, because there hasn’t been a whole lot of gentleness in the entirety of Jyn’s life and right now there’s enough in his voice to maybe make up for all of it.

“You shouldn’t have come out here,” she tells him, and she winces at the harshness of her own voice but she doesn’t stop. “Not if you knew that sniper was still around.”

“We had to deal with him eventually,” Cassian answers quietly, unfazed by her criticism. Maybe it’s because her hands are shaking, just a little, against his chest. “This seemed the safest way.”

Jyn forces herself to nod, and then reluctantly, drop her hands. “We should search him. Them. Then get the hell out of here.”

He looks at her for a long moment, and his already difficult-to-read face is nearly impossible in the dark of the alley. Without a word, he lets go of her shoulders (she’s instantly cold where his hands have been, and shivers) and turns to the bodies. He kneels to check the sniper, and Jyn tugs at the Imzig’s clothes. No one seems to have heard the blaster fire; both Cassian and the sniper had illegal silencers on their weapons, and this part of town isn’t known for its strong enforcer presence, anyway. Still, they move quickly. To her mild surprise, Jyn actually finds the datastick the Imzig had promised to bring tonight. She also finds a small credit chip in the body’s jacket pocket and an earpiece, not unlike her own, in the Imzig’s right ear. She holds up the latter for Cassian to see, and grimly he holds up the matching comm that he pulled from the sniper’s ear.

It possibly means she’s a bad person, but Jyn is glad that they are both dead. If Tak (or whatever her real name had been) knew enough about Cassian to turn an Imperial agent on him then she was, in Jyn’s opinion, too dangerous to live. But even with both enemies dead, it was high time to get off this rock. Cassian seems to be thinking the same, because a moment later he’s standing at her side, offering his hand. She takes it, uses it to pull herself up, and… doesn’t drop it.

Cassian glances at her, once, then without comment starts down the street, toward the port.

“We’ll have to stay clear of here for a bit,” Jyn remarks as they make their way to the main streets and through the crowds. It’s really late now, and the dance clubs are starting to close their doors, pushing the stragglers out into the streets.

“Until we confirm the blond didn’t holo me,” he agrees, carefully avoiding the words “sniper” or “Imperial agent” out in public. “Or you two,” he adds in a slightly darker tone.

“No reason to holo us,” Jyn tells him, “we’re just two drunk arseholes in some bar.”

“You were not entirely forgettable, you know,” Cassian tells her, raising an eyebrow.

Jyn snorts. “One barfight isn’t remarkable.”

His mouth twitches a little into the small but genuine smile that she loves best. Likes best. Appreciates, anyway. Damn. “You and I have a different idea of remarkable, I think,” he tells her, and that expression she can’t quite name is back on his face for a moment before he looks away, stepping closer to her to dodge around a group of laughing clubbers.

It’s a bit stupid that the sensation of his shoulder pressing against hers should make her swallow so hard, especially given how she’s still clutching his hand, like a child or a fool.

She still doesn’t let go.

They walk in silence until the gates to the port loom up out of the darkness, and she has to let go of his hand to step through the security scanners. This late at night at such a small landing station, there’s only one guard, and he’s dozing in his chair. He completely misses how Jyn pulls her serrated vibroblade from its holster up her sleeve and hands it back to Cassian before she steps through the scanners first. He also fails to see how she then casually reaches around the side to grab the blade and the blaster that Cassian pulls from his belt and hands her. Cassian steps through after her, takes back the blaster, and enters the launch code into the console by the guard’s propped up feet. Their ship is already lit up, the engine humming gently as Bodhi waits for them to board.

Jyn makes for the open ramp, but Cassian’s hand on her back stops her short.

“Jyn,” he says again in the same gentle tone.  She looks back at him over her shoulder, and holds her breath. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

Cassian shrugs, and then his face breaks into a smile she hasn’t seen since they bluffed their way onto Scarif, a brief but open grin that lights up his face and makes him seem years younger. “For having my back,” he answers simply. “For being there.”

The smile goes straight to her chest, and before she can think about it too hard, she turns sharply on her heel, grabs his collar and pulls herself up on her toes. He goes still under her hand, and she presses a brief but fierce kiss to the corner of his mouth. “All the way,” she whispers against his skin, then abruptly drops back to the balls of her feet and turns to march into the ship.

It takes him a moment to catch up, but then she feels him walking up the ramp just a short step behind her, close enough that she can feel the warmth of him through her jacket, and Jyn lets her lips quirk up into a smile.

“You’re late,” Bodhi calls from the cockpit. “Are we good?”

“Yes,” Cassian says from just over her shoulder. “We’re good.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> So the official Rogue One visual guide claims that not only does Bodhi like sabacc, but he's good enough to routinely claim other people's paychecks, personal effects, and identity chips. (Do people in Star Wars bet their ID cards on a routine basis?) I imagine that the Rogue team would find that a particularly useful skill to have in the mix. An I really love the idea of Jyn not only kicking ass, but managing to do it in a way that would not blow her cover, because she's not stupid. I also really wanted to make someone comment on the fact that Cassian took out a sniper, at night, with a handgun, probably only by aiming back along the path of the bolt meant for his own head. But then I figured, if no one makes a big deal of Bodhi's bluffing skills or Jyn's ass kicking, then Cassian's deadeye is probably just normal, too.


End file.
